


What is a Principality?

by boredom



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 09:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19827478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredom/pseuds/boredom
Summary: When God created Aziraphale, she made him with a special purpose in mind. Everyone is about to find out just how special.





	What is a Principality?

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I really need to work on my GO WIP
> 
> Also me: One-shots for days, bitches!

She was sitting in her work room, sketches and designs littered about the tables and chairs. It was wonderful, being able to create like this. She loved all of her creations and knew that time would allow them all to do amazing things. 

But her joy could not last forever. As much as there was joy and pleasure in the room, there was also a sense of melancholy. In a few moments, her plan would be set into motion. She didn’t want it to happen, but it needed to happen. Keeping everyone in this idealized utopia was not the point of all this work. 

Still, she worked on her latest project with a small smile on her face. One more final piece of the world and then all the players would be in place. Like a sculptor, moulding clay to their perfect image, she smoothed blemishes and carved lines. He was almost perfect. 

She sat back and looked at him fully. Almost, but not quite. 

“What is wrong with this image?” She took in height, his hair, his eyes, his mind. All seemed to be on the right track. She took in the muscles as well. 

“Ah, that’s what’s wrong.” Moving forward again she smoothed out the muscles, made him rounder. There were still muscles there, but they were buried. 

“You needed to be softer. You aren’t made for fighting, you’re made for love.” She stood back once more and looked at her creation. 

“Perfect,” she breathed. He was absolutely perfect. 

Another wave of melancholy washed over her. She knew that in a few short moments, she would be breathing life into him and he would spend thousands of years wrapped in his own anxiety and fears. She almost stopped herself. It would be cruel to do this to such a loving creature. But it was necessary. Without him, Heaven, and the soon to be created Hell would not be able to move forward. 

The metatron’s voice flowed into the room. “My Lord,” they said, “Lucifer has--”

“I know,” she said, the sadness creeping into her voice. She knew what was going to happen, had known since the moment she had created her children. 

“What of Cael?” she asked. He was one of the strange ones, always asking questions. She would miss his enthusiasm and creativity. 

“He’s chosen Lucifer.” 

Of course he had, and she specifically did not answer any of his questions. She could have easily, but the way Heaven was going, Cael (now known as Crawly and soon to be renamed Anthony J. Crowley) would not have been happy here. It was a necessary loss and in time, she hoped he would learn love. She hoped they all would. 

“Michael has rallied the troops and they are fighting,” the metatron continued.

Oh, her children, already spilling first blood on this newly created plane of existence. 

“I’ll be down in a moment to sort it out. Thank you.” 

The metatron left the room and she was left alone once more with her final creation. She smiled at him and breathed life into him. 

“Wake up, Aziraphael,” she whispered, letting love and kindness seep into her words and flow into him. 

Aziraphael breathed in and blinked, his eyes beginning to focus as he took in the room around him. 

“Oh, hello,” he said, smiling at her. 

She could see everything now and winced at some of the choices he would make. Maybe she should have given him more brain cells.

“Hello, Aziraphael.” She studied him a bit. Something still wasn’t right. “Your name, it’s not right.” She decided. 

Aziraphael’s smile dropped. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” 

Ah, not even a day old and already so polite. He really was perfect with all of his flaws. 

“Not at all. Do you mind if I change your name?” 

Aziraphael shook his head. “Goodness, no. I suppose you made me, so you get to name me.” He smiled at her again, folding his hands in front. She could tell he was still nervous. 

“I like the sound, but I think the ending is the problem.” She thought for a moment. “Ah, I know. Hello, Aziraphale.” That sounded right on her tongue. 

“Hello.” He seemed to relax. 

She reached behind her and grabbed a flaming sword. In what would seem like the blink of an eye, the sword would be corrupted. But it was important. 

“You were made with a special duty in mind. Do you feel like you would be up for the task?” 

Aziraphale started twisting the ring on his pinky finger. “I certainly hope so. It wouldn’t do to fail at my job.” 

She handed him the sword. “Don’t worry, you won’t. Now, go down to Eden and guard the Eastern Gate.”

Aziraphale nodded and left the room. 

Her smile faded as she watched him go. All that was left was to cast out Lucifer and his followers, and then she had to sit back and trust her children would do the right thing. Though she would have to give some insight to a witch in a few thousand years, just to make sure everything went smoothly. 

She took a deep breath and went to deal with her wayward children.

oOoOoOo

50 Years After the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t

Crowley and Aziraphale had spent the better part of the first year after their little trick on edge. Without any more prophecies, it was hard to tell if this was really the end of it. However, days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years without so much as a peep from their respective ex-head offices. 

Crowley was an optimist, but he wasn’t stupid. Their luck would eventually run out. He and Aziraphale tried to prepare as best as they could, but until they were actually put to the test, they could only wait and hope. 

Today seemed to be the day their luck finally ran out as they were enjoying a lovely picnic in the backyard of their cottage when timed stopped. 

“Oh, no,” Crowley groaned. Would it be Heaven or Hell who would come? More importantly, which would Crowley prefer to deal with?

He secretly wished for Hell. Aziraphale, for some reason, still had a soft spot for the Heavenly Bastards. Some sort of ill-placed hope that they would eventually realize they were wrong. Crowley did not want him to have to fight the people he tried to love for so long. 

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale breathed beside him. 

Crowley finally glanced to see who had come to collect them. It seemed their luck really had run out. Standing in front of them were Michael, Sandalphon, Uriel, Gabriel. But that wasn’t the worst part. Standing next to the stupid Heavenly Host were Dagon, Beelzebub, Hastur, and several of those little imp things that Crowley never cared for. 

Michael grinned at them. “You boys thought you were being very clever, weren’t you?” 

Aziraphale stiffened beside Crowley. It wasn’t fear. He was like a cobra, coiling tight so he could spring to attack. Crowley put a hand on his arm. Maybe there was a way to solve this without fighting. They had been prepared to fight one side or the other, but both at once was too much. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked. His voice seemed to be swallowed up by the vast emptiness of time itself. 

“Don’t lie, Crowley,” Hastur growled. “We know you two switched.” 

“It slowed us down, but it won’t stop us,” Sandalphon said, grinning. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Look, why can’t you leave us alone? We were only doing what was right.” 

“Demons aren’t supposed to do what’s right.” Beelzebub snarled. 

“What if I was actually doing the wrong thing by foiling the ineffable plan?” Crowley asked. He still hated the word, but it came in handy when dealing with people blindly following what they believed to be true. 

“Enough with the ineffable plan!” Gabriel shouted. “We’re going to take you both out so that no one else gets in their heads that they can do whatever they want.” 

“Having trouble controlling your legions?” Crowley asked. Beneath his snark, he had so many questions (like he always did). He got kicked out for asking questions, but now that he and Aziraphale went against Heaven itself, why hadn’t Aziraphale Fallen? And why hadn’t any of these questioning angels Fallen as well? He had a feeling Gabriel and the others weren’t here to answer these questions though. 

“You should leave,” Aziraphale said, his voice cold. “We don’t want to fight you.” 

“We have holy water,” Uriel said, holding up a jug. 

“And hellfire,” Dagon said, holding up their hand. “We’re going to get rid of both of you for good.” 

“Let’s start with the demon,” Michael said, lunging forward. 

Crowley and Aziraphale sprung into action. They had been preparing for this. Sure, it wasn’t the best of circumstances since they were going against Heaven and Hell at the same time, but they weren’t going down without a fight. 

Crowley did his best to keep track of Aziraphale while he punched, slashed, and kicked his way through whoever tried to attack him. His first and only priority was keeping him safe. 

Aziraphale, though soft, was able to hold his own against their attackers. He landed a well-placed kick to Sandalphon’s chest and sent the angel sailing across the field. 

“That’s my angel,” Crowley said, grinning as he flipped Dagon over his shoulder and stomped on their hand, extinguishing the hellfire. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Michael roared. 

Crowley turned to where the voice was coming from, but it was too late, Holy Water splashed in his eyes, just a few drops. He didn’t start to melt, but he was blinded and stumbled to the ground. 

“Ah!” He didn’t mean to cry out. Crying out would distract Aziraphale and if Aziraphale was distracted, someone might manage to kill him. 

Someone smashed him to the ground, their knee digging into his ribs, cracking them and bringing blood to his lips. Another person grabbed his wrists and broke them both, pinning him to the ground. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale screamed. 

Crowley kicked and writhed, trying and failing to dislodge the two who had pinned him. His eyes were burning and another hand gripped his jaw. 

“I’m going to pour this down your fucking throat and watch you die from the inside out,” Gabriel hissed. 

Crowley was still struggling, still trying to get away. He could probably miracle himself away from here, but that would leave Aziraphale defenseless against all of them and he knew his angel well enough to know that he wouldn’t actually kill any of them, even if he was being hunted like a dog. 

“Get oFF OF HIM!” Aziraphale roared. 

The commotion stopped. The hand that was gripping Crowley’s jaw let him go and Gabriel slid off of him. 

“What is he?” Uriel asked, their voice full of fear. 

Crowley rolled over to his stomach and coughed, looking up and surprised to see that he could actually… well, see. It was odd, though. He couldn’t see the countryside, their cottage, or the actual Earth. But he could see Gabriel, Uriel, Michael, and Sandalphon, on their knees, their mouths slack jawed as they stared at Aziraphale. 

He could also see Beelzebub, Haster, Dagon, and the imp cowering on the ground, their skin smoking as they writhed with pain, as if trying to escape Aziraphale. 

Finally, Crowley turned his gaze towards Aziraphale and… and… His mouth fell open. 

It was still Aziraphale, he could tell based on his aura, but it didn’t look like him. Thousands upon thousands of eyes dotted his skin and what seemed like an infinity of wings folded and flapped around him. Several circles, presumably his halo (halos?) circled and intertwined, written on them was a language older than time itself. It was a language that had always been and always would be. 

Aziraphale himself seemed to be taller than any mountain, but despite this Crowley could see everything. He could see every line and crease and word from top to bottom. 

And the light. Oh, that light! No wonder the demons were all cowering. It was holy and pure. It likely would burn them away in a few moments. Crowley, despite being a demon, did not feel pain. He could still gaze upon Aziraphale’s form without fear or suffering. He felt his wrists and ribs snap back into place and tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Beautiful,” he managed to choke out. Aziraphale was beautiful in the same way an erupting volcano or thunderstorm was beautiful. He was powerful, aweful, awesome in the most ancient of terms. 

“His true form,” Gabriel breathed next to him. 

For the first time, Crowley realized he had never actually seen Aziraphale’s true form because Aziraphale had not been there for the war when Lucifer fell. If his true form had been there, Crowley suspected it would have been an easy one-sided victory for Heaven. 

“GET AWAY FROM CROWLEY!” Aziraphale said again, his voice enveloping space itself, twisting through everyone’s minds and filling their very bodies. 

“He’s going to destroy himself and all of us if this keeps up,” Uriel said. 

Crowley looked back to Aziraphale and noticed the cracks in his form, as if even this was not enough to contain his power. And if this was the first time Aziraphale had slipped into his true form, it was likely that he didn’t know how to control the power. The Earth beneath his hands was shaking, straining to keep together under the immense power that was Aziraphale. 

He had to do something. He had worked too hard to lose Aziraphale now. 

“WE WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE! YOU NEED TO LEAVE US ALONE!” Aziraphale stepped towards them. Crowley noticed plants blooming in his footprints as he stepped closer and closer. He also realized the plants all had something to do with angels. Angel’s Earrings, angel wings, angel’s trumpets, they were all there. 

“A bit on the nose, if you ask me,” Crowley muttered. He stood and took a tentative step towards Aziraphale. He still couldn’t see the actual Earth, but Aziraphale was a guiding light. 

“What are you doing?” Gabriel hissed. 

“Keeping him from killing everything by accident,” Crowley said. He was pretty sure Aziraphale had never directly killed anyone before. He didn’t want his angel to be responsible for the destruction of the Earth. 

“Hi, Aziraphale. Nice form.” 

All of the eyes snapped towards Crowley. 

“And nice wings. Looks like you got… fifteen, thirty-seven, four hundred and ninety one. Yeah, I’m not going to take the time to count all of them.” 

“CRowlEY?” Aziraphale’s voice faltered and he stopped walking. 

“Yeah, I’m here, angel.” Crowley did his best to smile up at him. 

“THEY ARE GOING TO KILL YOU!” The eyes snapped back towards the angels and demons. The Earth started to shake and the power rolled off of Aziraphale, threatening to rip apart space and time itself. 

“No!” Crowley said, though he didn’t believe it. “No, I think they learned their lesson. Did you?” He turned back to the group. 

Michael was the only one to nod. “You’ll get your wish, we’ll leave you and Crowley alone for now,” they said. 

“See?” He turned back towards Aziraphale. “You did it, angel. Got them to actually leave us alone this time.” 

Aziraphale raised a hand to his head. 

“CROwleY? MY HeaD HURts.” He was still cracking, light pouring out. 

Crowley didn’t know how he was going to fix this. “Calm down, Azi, I’ll be fine.”

“THEY NEED TO PAY FOR WHAT THEY’VE DONE! TO US AND TO HUMANITY! WE ARE NOT PAWNS IN THEIR GAME!” 

“I know! I know, and you’ve taught them a lesson. So why don’t we close all but two eyes and maybe fold away some wings. We’ll get you right as rain, angel.” 

More cracks appeared. 

“If you don’t figure something out soon, he will destroy everything,” Gabriel hissed. 

“I don’t see you coming up with any plans!” Useless angels, the lot of them. 

Crowley then got an idea. And like most of his ideas, this one would probably backfire on his horribly. 

Now, Crowley had never prayed to God. He had, at most, screamed at her at all hours of the night leading to more than one noise complaint from his neighbors. Three days later, he had no neighbors. The point is, that when you pray to a deity, you want that deity to respond by doing what you want. When you scream at them at three o’clock in the morning, you don’t want them to respond. You more want them to know that you are very, very displeased with things. Crowley was not about to scream at God. He was about to ask her for something. He was about to do something no other demon had ever done. 

“Please, let this work,” he prayed. His tongue burned as he invoked the Almighty and he felt his skin prickle in defiance of the holy act he had just committed. 

He ignored it all and reached out a hand to Aziraphale. “Come on, tea time’s almost over, and the Golden Girls will be coming on in a few moments.” 

“What?” Dagon said between gasps of pain. 

All the eyes looked down at Crowley’s outstretched palm. 

Crowley swallowed and smiled at him. “Come on, Azi, you did good. You don’t have to protect me anymore, it’s over.” 

He noticed several of the eyes closing and not opening, almost disappearing back into Aziraphale’s skin. 

“CrOWley? WHAT’s HAPPening?” 

“You saved my life, that’s what’s happening. But I’m safe, you don’t have to keep fighting. You can stop.” 

Through the spinning halos, Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand. It burned him. He was essentially touching Aziraphale’s every essence of his existence. It was his purest, holiest form and as a demon, Crowley should have been burned just by being near him. He struggled to stay standing. If he collapsed now, it could send Aziraphale into another rage and Crowley didn’t think he’d be able to get him back again. 

“That’s it, angel, get your power out of this plane of existence,” he said. The burning sensation subsided and Aziraphale was back to looking like his old self, though where the cracks had appeared there was blood seeping out. Nothing too serious, though. 

Aziraphale wiped some blood on the palm of his hand and then pressed it to Crowley’s face. The burning of his eyes stopped and when Aziraphale pulled back his hand, Crowley could see again. 

Aziraphale looked at him and smiled. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed, taking Crowley down to the ground with him. 

Crowley shimmied out from underneath him and turned to look at the angels and demons. The demons had varying degrees of burns covering their bodies and were still smoking. The angels weren’t covered with burns but tears were streaming down their faces and they all looked equal parts horrified and full of awe. 

“Now will you leave us alone?” Crowley hissed. 

Beelzebub nodded. “I’ll let the legions know immediately not to mess with you.” 

Gabriel nodded. “I see now, the error of my ways.” 

With a snap, everyone was gone. Crowley sighed and looked down at Aziraphale. His skin was already started to stitch itself back together. 

“What the hell was that?” he muttered before taking Aziraphale inside. He and his angel weren’t going to have a long talk after he woke up and the Golden Girls was finished.

oOoOoOo

When Aziraphale blinked awake, it was dark outside. He also had the remnants of a splitting headache. 

“Oh, what happened?” he groaned, rolling over to see if Crowley was in bed with him. He wasn’t and a jolt of fear shot through him. 

“Angel? Are you finally awake?” Crowley popped his head through the door. 

“What do you mean finally? What happened?” he asked again. 

“You’ve been out for nearly a month,” Crowley said, helping him up and handing him a cup of cocoa. 

“A month? Why?” The last thing he remembered was the fight with Gabriel and the others. 

“You nearly ripped apart space and time itself with your power.” 

Aziraphale laughed. “Crowley, don’t be dramatic. We both know I’m not that powerful. I’m just a lowly angel.” 

Crowley didn’t laugh and was instead staring intently at him. “I’m not being dramatic. Part of the reason why Gabriel and the rest left us was because he was afraid of you, angel. Did you not know how powerful you were?” 

Aziraphale laughed again, though this time it was strained. “I’m not special Crowley. I’m just a lowly principality.”

Crowley spit out his own drink (probably spiked coffee). “What?” He cried. “What do you mean you’re a principality?” 

“Um, exactly that. I’m a principality.” 

Crowley started making worrying sounds with his mouth, gaping like a fish. “What?” he finally managed to gasp out. 

“I don’t understand, why is this such a shock to you?” 

More gaping like a fish. It would have been comical, if it were a different situation. “You are one of the highest ranking members of Heaven!” 

“No, I’m not.” He huffed and crossed his arms. 

Crowley wasn’t normally cruel when he was teasing, and he didn’t lie to Aziraphale, but it didn’t make sense. If Aziraphale was so high-ranking, why were the archangels able to torment him so?

“You are literally a prince of Heaven!” Crowley cried. 

“There are no princes of Heaven,” he scoffed. 

Crowley started flapping his arms. “That’s because it’s you! You’re the prince. This explains so much.” He stopped flapping and sank back on the bed. 

“Really, because it’s confusing me more than anything.” Aziraphale admitted. 

Crowley shook his head. “You didn’t see your true form, you were terrifying. And more powerful than any angel I have ever seen.” 

“If I’m a prince, then why am I down here? Shouldn’t I be up with God or something?” Aziraphale didn’t know how to argue against this. He had never considered the possibility that he was someone important or special. And Crowley seemed so sincere, how could he be lying about this.

Crowley was silent for a moment. “The purpose of a prince is to be next in line, right?” 

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Maybe that’s what God wants, why you’re here. She didn’t want you to be affected by Heaven. She wanted you to move the universe to its next stage.” 

“She could have told me all this when she created me.” He started to twist the ring around his pinky finger. 

“Like she would have time with all the creating she was doing,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I mean, thousands of angels in one batch. It’d be difficult to get you alone long enough to single you out.” 

“Oh, I was alone. I was the only one there when I woke up, aside from, you know, the almighty.” 

Crowley started gaping again. “You mean to tell me that you were uniquely created and alone with God and you still don’t think you’re special?” 

“I mean, it’s not like I had anything to compare to. We don’t talk about the circumstances of our creation in Heaven.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes and looked towards Heaven. “Did you have to make him so stupid?” 

God didn’t answer because this wasn’t a prayer. 

Aziraphale shifted beside him. “What do we do now…. With this information, I mean?” 

Crowley bit his lip and sighed. “Go on doing what you’ve always been doing, angle. If God didn’t like it, she’d smite you.” 

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Aziraphale grimaced. 

Crowley wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “Maybe it isn’t, but it’s true. I think, perhaps, the great plan wasn’t to destroy the Earth, it was to give humanity, angels, and demons the tools they needed to be happy.” 

“And you think I’m one of those tools?” 

“Maybe.” Crowley smiled. “Whatever the case, we have angels in Heaven questioning and not getting kicked out. I’m sure it’s the same way with demons. I think, maybe, Adam was only the beginning. In time everything will stabilize to be good forces and not-so-evil forces cancelling each other out, on all sides.” 

“As long as I don’t have to wear a crown,” Aziraphale said.

“I think you’d look sexy in a crown.” 

This got him an elbow to the side. And as Aziraphale and Crowley roughhoused on the bed, God smiled. Things were going exactly according to plan.

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of Crowley being Raphael, but it didn't really work for this fic so I gave him a random name. I really like the idea of principalities being higher than archangels and several people on Tumblr have pointed out, and more so I like the idea of Aziraphale not knowing, so this is the fic you get. So many fascinating little head cannons to explore, so little time.


End file.
